“We’ve been invited to the bunkhouse kitchen for chili.”
Joseph grinned. “W-wish we could invite you, boy, but it w-wouldn’t be right. You’re going to have to eat in the big house w-with all those people w-watching to snatch your plate before you get a chance to lick it clean and more forks than anybody ought to have to put up w-with.”
Abe frowned. “One of them fell in my pocket this morning. I guess you’d better take it back before they miss it.”
Michael took the fork. “No stealing while you’re here, remember?”
Abe’s head bobbled, but Michael doubted the message would log.
He walked back to the house. Inside the kitchen, he dropped the fork on a worktable and moved on. The place had more rooms than he could count. There were sitting rooms and proper parlors. Cozette’s father’s office was bigger than most banks, with closets and doors going off in almost every direction. While they’d looked over the map she’d mentioned her father hadn’t smoked in weeks, the area near the desk still smelled of cigars. Michael decided to ask if the bookkeeper smoked. If he did, he couldn’t have been away long even though Cozette hadn’t seen him.
When Michael finally wandered into the main entry hall, he found Cozette waiting on the third step, her elbows on her knees and her chin in her palms. She still wore her white blouse and riding skirt.
“Am I late?”
“No, you’ve plenty of time to change for dinner. I laid your clothes out myself.”
He frowned. “Why would I change?”
She smiled. “I’ve wondered that same thing most of my life. All I know is my uncle invited guests again. He’s not talking to me directly, but apparently he’s not ready to leave and needed a reason to stay. The charade of a wedding dinner with neighbors is as good a reason as any to delay his departure.”
“How’s your father?”
“The same.” She looked up at him, her eyes filled with sadness. “He doesn’t squeeze my fingers anymore and he won’t open his eyes when I talk to him. I get the feeling he wishes I’d stay away.”
Michael took her hand firmly in his grip. He had no idea what to say. The old man was having a hard time dying just as he’d had a hard time living. Cozette had been as starved for love growing up as Michael had been.
He tugged on her hand and pulled her into his arms as she stood. For a moment all he did was hold her against him guessing that the feel of another standing heart to heart was as foreign to her as to him.
She held on tightly for a moment, then smiled her thanks up at him.
“If I dress for dinner,” he tried to make light of what had just passed between them, “I’m guessing you will have to also.”
She groaned. “Of course, and wear my hair up. After all, I’m not a child any longer. I’m a proper married lady.” They moved up the stairs, holding hands.
“I like your hair down.” He winked at her. “It brushes your bottom when you walk.”
She slapped at his ribs and laughed. “A gentleman never refers to a woman’s bottom.”
He liked her teasing. This was a side of her he hadn’t seen. “I’m sorry, but you know, dear, I’m not a gentleman and I like looking at your bottom as well as your hair.” He slowed slightly to take in the view before she pulled him along.
They reached her room, where Moses slept outside her door.
“I slipped past him,” she confessed.
“Don’t do it again.” He hadn’t meant his words to roll so hard.
She looked up as if she might argue, then turned and disappeared into her room.
He woke his uncle and told him to go eat chili, that he’d guard his own wife tonight. She didn’t like being ordered—he needed to remember that. She expected him to be a gentleman and he wasn’t sure how. The one compliment he’d given her apparently wasn’t proper. If their marriage lasted beyond dinner tonight, he’d be surprised.
Chapter 6
Cozette jumped at the tap on their connecting door half an hour later.
“Ready?” he said when she shoved the lock free.
She didn’t miss his smile, but he looked nervous and somehow that one fact calmed her. With only a slight hesitance, she motioned him into her room.
She couldn’t help but stare at him from head to toe. He looked striking in his tailored evening jacket and white shirt hugging his tan throat. “Almost,” she whispered. “I